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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940948">My Last Letter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaBee_7/pseuds/BeaBee_7'>BeaBee_7</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure &amp; Romance, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Magic, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Royalty, Secret Identity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:41:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940948</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaBee_7/pseuds/BeaBee_7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's powerful magic in the world," Nicholas Schnee once said, "and when it speaks, you must listen."</p><p>A contract marriage arranged by their grandparents, Sir Qrow Branwen of Vale and Lady Winter Schnee of Atlas both reluctantly came to terms with their futures being tied together as husband and wife. However, through letters they sent each other, feelings began to blossom and their reluctance morphed to anticipation, and after five years, Winter was preparing to sail to Vale to meet Qrow when magic began to speak. </p><p>Hearing its call, Winter hid her identity, persuading her childhood friend, Robyn Hill, to impersonate her as they travel to Vale to stop the rediscovering of the Fountain of the Gods, and prevent the resurrection of an ancient demigoddess. </p><p>*inspired by Qrowin Week Prompt, Royalty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Qrow Branwen/Winter Schnee, Robyn Hill/Fiona Thyme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Last Letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Curling her toes as the warmth of the hearth began to expel into her room, Lady Winter Schnee, daughter of Viscount Jacques Schnee and Viscountess Willow Schnee of Atlas, smiled at the letter Sir Qrow Branwen of Vale sent to her. His latest letter came in just moments ago, the message arriving later than usual due to the melting snow creating muddy trails and roads. <br/>
 <br/>
Her younger siblings, Weiss and Whitley, were with her when Klein, the family butler, came in with the letter. Both were practically jumping to read the letter before Klein shooed them away for bed, which she appreciated. Fiona Thyme, her personal maid, placed a cup of chamomile tea with a small plate of cookies on her desk and teasingly winked before leaving. <br/>
 <br/>
It was embarrassing but everyone seemed to know that she selfishly kept the letters she received from Qrow to herself. Every two to three weeks, a letter from him would arrive with his seal unbroken on its back. At first, she hated that she was arranged to marry him, a man she did not know and up to this day have not met physically, but she was quick to accept to it rather than her father’s first choice for her, Earl Arthur Watts of Northridge.<br/>
 <br/>
Her father disapproved of the union between the two but had to accept it due to it being a contract made between her grandfather and Qrow’s. This arrangement was meant for her mother and Qrow’ father, but due to unforeseen circumstances, it skipped their generation and instead fell upon them. Qrow’s existence intruded in the future her father had laid out for her. Qrow sent a parcel to her father with a copy of the contract made between their families. That parcel was accompanied by a letter from King Ozpin of Vale validating the contract, and another letter addressed to her. It was a whirlwind of a spring day. Her father requesting, nearly demanding, an audience with Queen Freya of Atlas, and the Queen wasn't much help as she simply read the contract and also validated it. Her mother had aggressive outbursts of concern, demanding information on Qrow from other noblemen, but no one seemed to know who he was outside of being captain of the King's Guards in Vale. Klein was too busy easing Weiss and Whitley's nervous cries to express his own worries. </p><p>And Winter, she was the first daughter of a noble family. She had the responsibility and expectation of being well educated, inheriting the family’s company, and marrying up. And with all of her father’s careful planning shattered, Winter, even though she was concerned for her siblings, still could not help but feel relieved deep inside the crevice of her heart.<br/>
 <br/>
She was marrying a knight. A knight who wasn’t even a baron. It was an unsure future, but one where she was going to have more control over and Qrow, in his first letter, not only introduced himself but also stated he was supportive of whatever she wanted to do once they were wedded. He even wrote she could live in a different country. She imagined he, just like her father, simply wanted to marry up and what easier way for a knight to do that but to employ a nearly 70-year-old contract?<br/>
 <br/>
His letters at first were stale and bland. Formal. And Winter answered his letters with the same lack lustered he had. After all, he was 13 years her senior. What was he going to speak about to a young 16-year-old? Their letters spoke of the weather, the cost of wheat, and other meandering topics. She imagined it was just to start some form of relationship between them as they were having a political marriage. While love may not be there, respect and dignity should be. Then, a few days before she turned 18, they became slightly amusing after Winter sent him a letter insulting his intelligence. He wrote to her about a political decision he agreed with and Winter, completely offended by his agreement of reducing medical personnel’s pension to their family after death, sent him a scathing response.<br/>
 <br/>
She was angry that she was going to marry a greedy man like her father and stewed in her disgust for days. The revulsion ran so deep she began to study the contract to find a way to absolve it. Then, his next letter came. He agreed with her but also insulted her lack of manners. And she sent another letter back insulting him two-fold. <br/>
 <br/>
From then on, something happened where she began to look forward to receiving his letters. They became interesting. His humor and cynical outlook had her rolling her eyes. He stopped address her as ‘Dear Lady Winter’ and instead wrote, ‘Dearest Ice Queen,’ just as she did with him. It wasn’t ‘Dear Sir Qrow’ but ‘Grackle.’<br/>
 <br/>
He became hers. <br/>
 <br/>
His letters, the words he wrote with his sloppy handwriting, built cities for her. Long roads lit with street lamps. A harbor with a burning lighthouse. Cathedrals with gleaming stain glass. They left her enchanted. He left her besotted. And after four years of exchanging letters, they had their proxy wedding. She with her Uncle, General James Ironwood of the Atlas Army, as the stand-in for Qrow, and Qrow had his brother-in-law’s cousin, Doctor Glynda Goodwitch, as her stand-in. </p><p>In the eyes of the higher courts, through their proxy wedding, they were legally married. The Queen was even a guest at her banquet. However, while their families were bonded, they could not call themselves husband and wife until they had their wedding ceremony in the Church of the Brother Gods in Vale. It was only then they would be married in the eyes of the creators and become husband and wife. She was 21 now and, at the end of the month, she was set to travel to Sumire, a coastal city north of Sanus which was on the continent where the Kingdom of Vale resided on. And once she landed on port and left the Atlas Ship, she would be under the Kingdom of Vale care. She was, according to Qrow’s letter, to meet him and they would travel together to Vale.<br/>
 <br/>
She smiled softly at his letter, at his teasing remarks and insults towards some Vale politician. On her desk resided a small parcel that came with the letter, and she wasn’t one to open a gift without reading the letter first. She sighed in good humor at his roguish remarks on his gift, never stating what it was but hoping that she liked it. Folding the letter, she set it aside to open his gift. It was wrapped in plain but sturdy paper, his seal broke off easily and she reached inside. From the confinement of the small box, she pulled out a gold, guilloche locket with a foliate bezel. It was fine work, the craftsmanship remarkable and meticulous. It was small, fitting comfortably in the palm of her hand.<br/>
 <br/>
It was not the first time Qrow had sent her a gift. He sent her trinkets, humble in nature and material. A metal thimble. A preserved bumblebee. A music box. A smooth, intricate whistle made of wood and carved by his hands. She despised knick-knacks in general, but the sincerity of his gifts warmed her. However, this locket was expensive, a luxury. Money that he must have saved to commission it and when she opened it, she shook her head. <br/>
 <br/>
It was customary with contract marriages between two individuals who had never met before to not send each other depictions of themselves. It was an archaic guideline out of fear of one party nulling the contract due to physical attractiveness. It was a custom she and Qrow followed until he decided to break it at this very moment. When she was younger, she dug through her grandfather’s old journals to find a description of his friend, Sir Frode Branwen. There wasn’t much besides Frode having unusual red eyes. So, that was how she imagined Qrow. Unusual red eyes.<br/>
 <br/>
And that was what was staring back at her. <br/>
 <br/>
Qrow had short black hair, swept back and out of his red eyes. Eyes that reminded her of rowanberries. Stern eyebrows. A prominent nose and sharp jawline covered in stubble. His grim expression contracted his smug and immature humor in his letters to her. This was Qrow Branwen. This was the man whom she would spend the rest of her living days with.<br/>
 <br/>
“Imprudent as always,” she murmured, smiling at the miniature portrait of him made of oils.   </p><p>~o~o~o~o~</p><p>At the start of the decade, Queen Freya made a daring proclamation of taking Atlas and Mantle into the future, and due to her bold words, Atlas was known for its tall buildings that almost appeared to be kissing the skies, street lamps lining the road, and its high functioning public transportation. <br/>
 <br/>
Winter was taken into the city by a horse-drawn carriage just like other nobles. However, she was certain in the next decade all the nobles and the upper-class society will be taking the novel automobile that was currently being developed. Her father acquired a prototype to test run as it was their money primarily funding the endeavor. The machine was frightening but Winter couldn’t dismiss the exhalation it manifested in her, and she was quick in learning how to stir the bulky machine. <br/>
 <br/>
Alongside the development of industrial innovation, Atlas was charging towards the advancement of science and medicine with magic being the bridge between the two. It was how the street lamps were able to turn on, a bright orb of light suspended in the middle of the glass enclosure. <br/>
 <br/>
Winter used to study magic heavily with her grandfather when she was younger prior to his passing. It has been years since she last touched a textbook on magic but, on occasions, she would use it to light a candle across the room or to chill her glass of water. Strolling down the street, ordering her coachman to stay with the carriage, Winter made her way to the Hill’s Photographic Studio. The studio was tucked away in the lower class district, right above a potion shop. It was owned by Lady Robyn Hill, sole heiress of Baroness Wilma Hill of Lockett. <br/>
 <br/>
In less than two weeks, she will be traveling to meet Qrow. Due to his imprudent decision to break tradition, Winter decided it would only be fair that she did the same, marking them both at fault and putting them on equal ground. She felt commissioning a miniature portrait of herself and finding the appropriate casing would take too long. In addition, Qrow was a knight. A locket or a small metal casing may be too troublesome for him to carry. <br/>
 <br/>
However, a photograph of herself in a sleeve may be more suitable for him and his line of work. Winter passed the Marigold Potion Shop and climbed the brick staircase at the side of the building, passing a small open window. On top of the staircase was the entrance of the studio and she entered the shop. The bell on the door sounded her arrival. Robyn came out from the back, her eyes grew wide just a faction and she smiled. <br/>
 <br/>
“Lady Winter, what a nice surprise seeing you,” Robyn, despite being a noblewoman, preferred to dress in masculine work clothes. Brown trousers, a vest of hunter green velvet over a white-collar shirt, and blonde hair tied up loosely. Her eyes were a muted lilac, bright as she peered behind Winter. She always tittered on the fine line of proper etiquette. “Don’t tell you came here alone?”<br/>
 <br/>
“If you are looking for Miss Thyme, she was unable to accompany me due to a project my mother gave her.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Your mother can eat lemons.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Mind your words,” Winter said in a jest, her smile small as she took a seat on a settee. “Especially when I became a carrier pigeon for you.”<br/>
 <br/>
Robyn’s expression lit up at the letter Winter produced from her pocket, “It’s all in good humor, and we both know you’re more of a swan than a plan old pigeon. I made some lemon cakes. I’ll grab you a slice and prepare some tea.” Robyn took the letter from Winter and went to the back, most likely reading the letter first instead of making tea.<br/>
 <br/>
It was pleasing, however, the love between Robyn and Fiona. Winter met Robyn at Cordovan’s Private Schooling for Nobles. Headmistress Cordovan used to be Captin of the Queen's Guard in her younger years and was very strict while also eccentric in her teaching. Winter and Roybn were both young when they met. Robyn was two grades ahead of her, already blossoming into a young lady when she cornered Winter on the stairwell. Winter, being ten, was unsure what Robyn wanted and was surprised when Robyn asked Winter of her maid’s daughter, Fiona Thyme. <br/>
 <br/>
Fiona was the same age as Winter and they used to play with each other when they were younger. Fiona accompanied Winter, not only as a playmate, but to also learn under her mother how to be a maid to a respectable household. Seeing how Robyn was interested in Fiona, they began to have tea parties. And from childhood friends in the midst of the Schnee’s private gardens, Robyn and Fiona became lovers. Though kept in secret due to Fiona’s status and occupation of being a maid. <br/>
 <br/>
“So? How can I help you?” Robyn was back, glowing happily as she set a teapot and teacup in front of Winter.<br/>
 <br/>
“Sir Qrow has sent me a locket with his portrait inside,” Winter said, taking her teacup and inhaling the aroma of roses seeped with black tea. <br/>
 <br/>
“Don’t you two have a contract marriage?”<br/>
 <br/>
“We do.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Isn’t that against the rules?”<br/>
 <br/>
“It is a custom of good practice but not a rule.”<br/>
 <br/>
Robyn snorted, “You married a rule-breaker, Up Tight Schnee."</p><p>"I am well aware."</p><p>"Good. Well, hand it over. Let’s see your prince charming.”<br/>
 <br/>
Winter frowned but pulled the locket from around her neck, ignoring Robyn’s mocking coo, and handed it over to her. <br/>
 <br/>
“Oh, he’s nothing like I imagined.”<br/>
 <br/>
“What were you imaging?”<br/>
 <br/>
“A brilliant, uptight handsome knight,” Robyn laughed, “I mean, he is serving King Opzin. But Five o’clock Shadow here just screams, ‘I like getting into bar fights.’ No offense.” <br/>
 <br/>
Winter’s glower only increased, “Offense taken.” Robyn handed the locket back and it took some effort to not snatch it from her. <br/>
 <br/>
“Sorry,” she chuckled. “So, he sent you a nice portrait of himself and you’re here, about to leave, so can I assume you want to break customs, too, and get your photograph taken?”<br/>
 <br/>
“I do,” Winter placed the locket around her neck once more.<br/>
 <br/>
“That will be a nice surprise. Come on. Sit over there. I’ll fetch my supplies.” Robyn waved towards a single plush chair in the corner of the room with red draping behind it. <br/>
 <br/>
Winter took off her hat, untying it from under her chin and checked her reflection, ensuring her hair and clothing were still in proper order. She sat down and spreading her skirt evenly.  “I brought some lien with me for payment.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Keep your money, Schnee,” Robyn shouted from the back. “This will be my present to you and your groom.”<br/>
 <br/>
“How economic.”<br/>
 <br/>
Robyn appeared from the back with a frown, “Have I told you taking that hat off was a good idea.”<br/>
 <br/>
“You have not.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Well, it was. It’s hideous.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Truly? Miss Thyme picked it out for me. I will pass the message to her.”<br/>
 <br/>
Robyn frowned, “actually it’s going to be two hundred liens.”<br/>
 <br/>
It didn’t take as long as Winter imagined. She sat still for a few minutes, hands resting on her lap, a ¾ profile with a neutral expression. Then, another few minutes of waiting for Robyn to process the image. Robyn mentioned the process was called gelatin silver. Winter held her photo in her hand, it was already tucked away in a sturdy army green sleeve. Unlike Qrow’s portrait that was vibrant with color. Her photo was muted, tones of blacks and greys, but it was sharp and flattering.  <br/>
 <br/>
“Happy with it?” Robyn asked, locking the door behind her. It was the end of the day and Robyn invited herself over to the Schnee’s for some late afternoon tea. <br/>
 <br/>
“I am. I plan to send it to him at once.”<br/>
 <br/>
Robyn smiled, about to ask how far along Winter was with packing when a loud crash came from the little window that peered into the back room of the Marigold Potion Shop. Then, the slamming of a hand on a table.<br/>
 <br/>
“What do you mean your son hasn’t found it yet, is he a complete imbecile!? It’s one book!”<br/>
 <br/>
“Have you been into their library!?” Another voice, younger than the first, hissed back, “They have over 10,000 books!”<br/>
 <br/>
“Henry, please,” a third voice appeared, the owner of the Potion Shop and father to Henry Marigold, Sir William Marigold. <br/>
 <br/>
“And I need you to find one unless you want your father’s business to be bought out and have your family live on the streets!”<br/>
 <br/>
“Your Lordship, please, no need to be hasty,” William said. “Lord Jacques Schnee accepted my request for Henry to study with Lady Weiss Schnee this upcoming Sunday. Henry will use that time to find the book.”<br/>
 <br/>
Winter bent down closer to the window to hear better. What book were they looking for, she wondered, and why were they looking for it at their personal library?<br/>
 <br/>
“I will find it,” Henry stated. <br/>
 <br/>
“And when you do, ensure that you don’t open it, boy,” The Lord sneered.<br/>
 <br/>
“Of course, My Lord, um, what was it called again?”<br/>
 <br/>
There was a tense stillness that seeped from the room, magic thick in the air. “Let me write it for you,” The Lord said. A yelp and a painful cry came from Henry and William let out a horrified gasp as burnt flesh trickled into the air. “<em>Cadeaux des Frères</em>. Repeated after me.”<br/>
 <br/>
“<em>Cadeaux des Frères</em>,” Henry nearly sobbed out.<br/>
 <br/>
“Do you think you’ll remember it?”<br/>
 <br/>
“Yes, My Lord.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Good.”<br/>
 <br/>
Genteel steps left the room followed by the chime of the front door. Winter could hear William consoling his son, even apologizing. While the Marigolds weren’t the most pleasant family, Winter pitied them. Earl Watts’ appearance wasn’t intimidating but his actions and words were. Winter gestured to Robyn to follow her quietly down the stairs and away from the Potion Shop. Winter and Robyn did not speak of what they heard until they were inside of the carriage riding back to the Schnee Manor. </p><p>“So?” Robyn began, “Are you going to tell your father? They are planning to steal a…book from your family.”<br/>
 <br/>
“My father will do nothing. If anything, he will bargain the book away, at least, since it is Earl Watts.”<br/>
 <br/>
“What?! It was that rat-looking old man in there?” Robyn scoffed loudly, “Did you know he tried to have Dr. Polendina exiled after he refused to work for him?”<br/>
 <br/>
“I do. He was my former choice of husband after all. Father likes to keep in touch with him, just in case."<br/>
 <br/>
Robyn frowned, “You really dodge a bullet there."</p><p>"Yes, and so did Weiss. After all the gossip I have created, and matchmaking falling out of favor with the nobles due to it, my parents are staying away from arranged marriages."</p><p>"Weren't you the one that started the conversation that led to the social rejection of arranged marriage?"</p><p>"I was."</p><p>"You've always been manipulative," Robyn hummed in thought. "So, back to the conversation on hand, what are you going to do with Lip Toupee?”<br/>
 <br/>
Winter knew of the book they were searching for. Long ago, her grandfather, Papa Nicholas, showed it to her. Papa Nicolas enjoyed stories and enjoyed telling them to her before he passed away. She could barely read at that time and had to peer over the edge of the desk until he set her on a stool. On his grand oak desk, the <em>Cadeaux des Frères</em> sat, it was old and weathered, its leather cover already brittle at its edges. Unremarkable with its title simply embossed onto the leather. <br/>
 <br/>
It was a historical book on ancient magic. Papa Nicholas read some passages to her, most too complicated for her, but she remembered the Fountain of the Gods. Papa Nicholas told her that the Fountain of the Gods was pure magic and anyone that drank from it would become immortal and their magic would increase ten folds. However, due to the greed of humanity, the balance of life and death was disrupted, and the Gods hid the fountain. They blew a gust of wind and killed nearly everyone but five families. It was from these five families the kingdoms of Atlas, Menagerie, Mistral, Vacou, and Vale descended from.<br/>
 <br/>
He then opened to the back of the book. The last few dozen pages were sealed together and, in the middle, there was a hollow space where an uncut gem resided inside. The Fountain of the Gods was hidden on Remnant, and if ever found, they must present three gems to enter that realm. <br/>
 <br/>
The Gem of Life.<br/>
 <br/>
The Gem of Death.<br/>
 <br/>
The Gem of Magic.<br/>
 <br/>
The blue uncut gem her grandfather presented to her was the Gem of Magic. They were hidden in the <em>Cadeaux des Frères</em> centuries ago by the five families and given to three families to guard them. Papa Nicholas said they were one of the families chosen to safe keep the gem. Winter remembered asking of the other families and Papa Nicholas made a somber expression. <br/>
 <br/>
The other families had died off. According to her grandfather, The Gem of Death was in Vale and the Gem of Life in Mistral. And in the <em>Cadeaux des Frères</em> that held the Gem of Life, the location of the Fountain of Life was revealed. Winter asked of the whereabouts of the books, and her grandfather laughed. He assumed the kingdoms' royal libraries might have them somewhere in their rare text collection. <br/>
 <br/>
“Lady Winter?” Robyn called out to her.<br/>
 <br/>
“We are having tea in the library,” Winter answered, fixing her long skirt unperturbedly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i didn't do a good edit/revision of this chapter - so I'm going to do it later. Sorry. lmao<br/>hope you enjoyed this chapter c: thank you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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